The Fourth Road was beautiful.
That should have been the warning.
Unlike the other paths—soaked in blood, shadow, and decay—this road gleamed beneath a false twilight. Smooth marble tiles stretched endlessly toward the horizon, reflecting soft rose-colored light. Pillars sculpted in the likeness of entwined lovers lined both sides of the path, their expressions frozen somewhere between bliss and heartbreak.
Some smiled.
Some wept.
Some seemed trapped between the two.
The air was warm.
Pleasant.
Fragrant.
A subtle perfume lingered within every breath, slipping gently into the mind.
Many soldiers slowed without realizing it.
Some smiled faintly.
Others grew distracted.
A few found themselves remembering things they had not thought about in years.
Lost loves.
Forgotten dreams.
Regrets.
Desires.
The road did not attack the body.
It attacked the heart.
At the front of the march stood four S-ranked superhumans.
Powerful.
Experienced.
Proven.
Yet unlike Gerald or Salvatore, they had never commanded an army through a Demon King's domain.
Thunderfist Brian walked at the forefront.
Lightning crackled across his forearms as he frowned at the unnatural serenity surrounding them.
Beside him, Spellweaver Anna whispered counter-charms beneath her breath, weaving delicate threads of mana around nearby soldiers.
Soul Shredder Liam remained silent.
His expression was cold.
His eyes hollow.
The cursed blade at his side whispered constantly to the souls trapped within its steel.
Iron Core Truff maintained the center formation.
His metallic skin gleamed beneath the twilight as he issued clipped commands and adjusted troop movements.
Veteran instincts told him something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Brian glanced toward the road ahead.
"Stay sharp."
Lightning danced between his fingers.
"This place feels wrong."
None of them realized just how correct that statement was.
The castle appeared gradually.
Like a dream taking shape.
Tall spires curved inward toward one another.
Smooth ivory walls shimmered beneath glowing sigils that pulsed in slow, hypnotic rhythms.
Silk banners fluttered despite the complete absence of wind.
Music drifted through the air.
Soft strings.
Gentle laughter.
A distant melody that seemed both familiar and impossible to place.
The gates opened before the army arrived.
As though they had been expected.
As though they had been invited.
Inside waited Belial.
The Sixty-Eighth Demon Lord.
He lounged upon a throne of velvet and bone.
One leg crossed casually over the other.
Unlike many demons, Belial appeared almost human.
Handsome.
Refined.
Elegant.
Flowing crimson robes draped loosely across his frame.
Only his eyes betrayed him.
They burned with cunning.
Cruelty.
Malice hidden beneath charm.
Behind him stood two Dark Berserkers.
Massive.
Silent.
Motionless.
Five Dark Knights waited beside them.
Their armor gleamed like polished mirrors.
Their swords rested calmly at their sides.
Belial slowly began to clap.
The sound echoed through the grand chamber.
"How refreshing."
His smile widened.
"Guests who still believe in victory."
Brian stepped forward immediately.
Lightning erupted around him.
The marble floor cracked beneath his feet.
"Your games end here."
Belial chuckled.
The sound was warm.
Almost friendly.
"Oh."
His smile widened further.
"They're only just beginning."
Then the battle exploded.
Brian moved first.
Thunder detonated beneath his feet as he launched himself across the chamber.
Lightning trailed behind him like a living storm.
Anna raised her staff.
Arcane bolts spiraled through the air like serpents made of pure mana.
Truff charged directly into the enemy line.
His metallic fists crashed into the nearest Dark Knight with enough force to shatter stone.
Liam vanished.
A heartbeat later, his soul blade flashed.
One Dark Knight froze.
Then collapsed without a sound.
Its body remained intact.
Its soul did not.
For a brief moment—
A glorious moment—
Humanity held its ground.
Brian's lightning shattered Belial's throne.
The Demon Lord was forced to leap aside.
Anna's spells ripped through demonic formations.
Armor cracked.
Flesh burned.
Arcane explosions illuminated the chamber.
The human army surged forward.
Momentum built.
Victory seemed possible.
Then Belial sighed.
And everything changed.
"Enough."
The single word echoed softly through the castle.
The walls pulsed.
The music grew louder.
The fragrance thickened.
The effect was immediate.
And devastating.
One soldier dropped his weapon.
Another turned toward a comrade with tears in his eyes.
A third began screaming accusations nobody understood.
Jealousy surfaced.
Fear emerged.
Old resentments returned.
Paranoia spread.
The battlefield fractured from within.
Some soldiers attacked allies.
Others simply stood motionless, staring at visions visible only to them.
Anna's spell collapsed mid-cast.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"This is—"
She staggered.
"This is mind interference on a massive scale!"
Belial laughed softly.
The sound carried genuine amusement.
"Desire is not a spell."
His eyes gleamed.
"It's truth."
The Dark Berserkers charged.
The impact was catastrophic.
They hit the frontline like collapsing buildings.
Bodies flew.
Bones shattered.
Armor crumpled.
Truff intercepted the first Berserker directly.
Metal crashed against corrupted steel.
The shockwave shattered nearby pillars.
But before he could capitalize—
The second Berserker slammed into his side.
The impact launched him across the chamber.
His body tore through marble columns before skidding across the floor in a shower of sparks.
Brian turned instinctively.
Trying to help.
Trying to recover control.
Then he saw her.
His sister.
Standing among the chaos.
Smiling.
Calling his name.
Dead for years.
Gone.
Impossible.
Yet there she was.
For half a heartbeat—
Brian hesitated.
That was enough.
A Dark Knight's blade pierced his side.
Blood sprayed across the marble.
The illusion vanished.
Reality returned.
Too late.
Then the temperature changed.
The music stopped.
And suddenly—
Everything else seemed insignificant.
A figure stepped from behind the shattered remains of Belial's throne.
The entire battlefield fell silent.
Not because anyone ordered it.
Because every instinct screamed attention.
She was beautiful.
Not merely attractive.
Not merely stunning.
Beautiful in a way that felt wrong.
Dangerous.
Unnatural.
Long golden hair flowed down her back like liquid sunlight.
Crimson eyes glowed with quiet amusement.
Every movement carried effortless grace.
And her presence—
Her presence pressed directly upon the soul.
Not violently.
Not forcefully.
Intimately.
Like a whisper spoken directly into the heart.
Luxuria.
The Demon Queen of Lust.
She had arrived.
Behind her stood two figures.
And somehow, they were even more terrifying.
Bathin.
The Eighteenth Demon Lord.
His expression remained calm.
Measured.
Cold intelligence radiated from every glance.
Beside him stood Botis.
The Seventeenth Demon Lord.
Silent.
Motionless.
Predatory.
His mere presence made seasoned S-ranked warriors feel death standing behind them.
Belial immediately dropped to one knee.
"My Queen."
Luxuria waved him away casually.
The gesture carried absolute authority.
"Continue."
Her smile remained gentle.
"I wish to watch."
That was all.
The battle ended minutes later.
Not because humanity lacked courage.
Not because humanity lacked strength.
But because they had never possessed a chance to begin with.
Luxuria's presence alone shattered cohesion.
Soldiers turned upon one another.
Driven by envy.
Desire.
Regret.
Obsession.
Forgotten wounds reopened.
Old grief resurfaced.
The battlefield dissolved into madness.
Orders vanished.
Formations collapsed.
Spells misfired.
Bathin moved methodically through the chaos.
A master strategist given physical form.
Every strike landed where resistance gathered.
Every movement dismantled command structures.
Every decision was perfect.
Botis was worse.
Far worse.
He appeared.
Killed.
Disappeared.
Again.
And again.
And again.
No wasted motion.
No dramatic attacks.
Only flawless executions.
Anna screamed.
False futures flooded her mind.
Thousands.
Millions.
Endless possibilities collapsing into one another.
Blood streamed from her nose.
Then her eyes.
She fell to her knees.
Broken.
Liam charged.
His soul blade shrieked with trapped spirits.
The attack was aimed directly at Luxuria.
He never reached her.
Botis appeared.
One strike.
Only one.
Liam stopped moving.
His blade slipped from numb fingers.
Then he fell.
Dead before he hit the floor.
Truff struggled to rise.
His metallic body was cracked and dented.
Still he fought.
Still he tried.
Bathin approached calmly.
Placed one hand upon Truff's chest.
And whispered something.
The metallic giant froze.
A crack spread across his torso.
Then another.
His core shattered.
The light in his eyes vanished.
Brian knelt in a pool of blood.
Lightning flickered weakly around him.
Dying.
Like a storm running out of sky.
Luxuria approached.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
Then crouched before him.
Their eyes met.
"You fought bravely."
Her voice was warm.
Kind.
Almost sincere.
"Would you like to serve instead?"
Brian tried to answer.
Tried to curse her.
Tried to fight.
No sound emerged.
His body no longer obeyed him.
The Queen smiled.
And moved on.
When the gates finally closed, the Fourth Road was silent.
Bodies littered the palace floor.
Some were dead.
Others remained alive.
Though not truly.
Their eyes were empty.
Their wills shattered.
Their spirits hollowed out.
Luxuria turned away.
Already bored.
"Clean this up."
Her voice echoed softly through the chamber.
Bathin bowed.
"Prepare the next phase."
Belial's grin widened.
He lowered his head deeply.
"Yes, my Queen."
The Demon Queen walked away.
Her golden hair trailing behind her like flowing sunlight.
Around her, the surviving demons knelt.
Not out of fear.
Out of devotion.
Far beyond the Great Gate, humanity still believed they were fighting four Demon Lords.
A difficult battle.
A dangerous battle.
A battle they could still win.
They did not understand the truth.
The four castles had never been the real threat.
The Demon Lords had never been the true enemy.
They were fighting a Queen.
And Luxuria had not even begun to move.
The realization, when it finally arrived, would break far more than armies.